


Hounds of Justice

by SapphoIsBurning



Category: Professional Wrestling, Teen Wolf (TV), World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, Gore, M/M, Pre-Slash, Temporary Character Death, WWE Royal Rumble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9502520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: In order to save Beacon Hills, Dean Ambrose decides to enter the Rumble, some kind of fey battle royale. But his werewolf best friend Roman Reigns and his...sexually charged werewolf frenemy Seth Rollins definitely have something to say about their squishy human getting in the ring.[Yep, it's a more literal Teen Wolf/WWE fusion AU with Dean!Stiles.]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenjideath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenjideath/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday, kenjideath! I swear I started this before your actual birthday but at least I finished it before the rumble.

“I forbid you to enter the Rumble,” Roman said. He folded his arms and tried to look like a fierce alpha werewolf. Instead he just looked constipated.

“You can’t do that,” Dean said, chewing on the string of his hoodie, unmoved by Roman’s alpha powers. He typed rapidly at his computer. “I’ve checked it four times, you don’t have to be a werewolf to enter, you don’t have to be anything. You have to find the time and place and step into the fairy ring.”

“And then you have to survive,” Roman said.

“I’ve survived plenty of things,” Dean said, spinning around in the desk chair. His hand crept to his collarbone and he rolled his shoulder.

“So far.” Roman flopped down on the bed.

“Winning the Rumble is the only way we’ll ever stop the Alpha pack,” Dean said firmly. “And hacking the scantron machine is the only way you’re going to pass Chemistry. I swear it will work.”

“No, Dean.”

“If you fill in the bubbles exactly as I say, you can make it execute arbitrary code. If we had a big enough test we could make the machine play Mario. It would have to be...” Dean counted on his fingers. “Probably a quarter mile long. But it would be worth it.”

“Maybe we should just actually study,” Roman said.

Dean shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

There was a knock at the door. “You boys need anything?” Sheriff Ambrose said.

“Dad, do you know where to buy a four thousand foot roll of scantron paper?” He froze hopefully. “It’s for school,” he added. Roman covered his face with his hand.

The Sheriff frowned, shook his head a little, and shut the door.

***

Dean jogged through the woods of the preserve, for once relishing not having anything chasing him. He knew he was getting close to the old Rollins house. He knew that all at once from the surly werewolf breathing down the back of his neck.

“Cut that shit out!” Dean shouted, turning around and stumbling, about to fall down on his ass before Seth Rollins caught him, hauling him roughly back to his feet.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” Seth asked. He pushed his hair back from his face, looking less grizzled than usual in the morning light through the trees.

“Training,” Dean said. “You know. Cardio. Was gonna go do some yoga on a cliff. I hear that’s good for you, you know. The cliff. Training. Cross training.” He twirled his fingers in the air.

“Training  _ for what _ ,” Seth spat.

“I’m entering the Rumble,” Dean said.

“Does Roman know about this?”

“He told me about it in the first place,” Dean said cheerfully. “So, you can thank him when I win and get granted my heart’s desire by the king of the fairies.”

“You’re an idiot,” Seth said.

“Impulsive! Wrong I-word!” Dean said, breaking into a run again, continuing on the trail.

Dean heard footfalls behind him. “So you do work out,” he said.

“You need to stay out of this,” Seth growled. Dean turned and saw the sun glinting on the zipper of Seth’s leather jacket, bouncing as he ran.

“Don’t be such a sour wolf,” Dean said, turning around and jogging backwards.

Seth said something else but it washed right over Dean as he took in the sight of him running. Dean put on a burst of speed just to see what Seth would do. He thought he caught a glimpse of fang as Seth caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm, knocking both of them to the ground this time, Seth landing on top.

“Or we could do this,” Dean said. “This is good practice too.” He tried to shift his weight and flip Seth over, but the guy’s grip was like iron. Was this a bad time to think about how nice it felt having Seth on top of him, or the  _ best _ time? He winked up at Seth.

“What are you even going to fight fairies and werewolves with?” Seth snarled.

“Human ingenuity. Ooh, another I word! And the green mist,” Dean said.

“What the hell is that?” Seth asked.

“I”m not actually sure, but I saw it in a YouTube video from—”

Seth’s head dropped down in resignation. He rolled over onto his back. “You’re gonna need more than that.”

***

Dean was minding his own business for once, just laying in bed on a Friday night trying to see if Seth Rollins had a Facebook page or a MySpace or some kind of internet trace left from before the fire, when there was a tap at his window.

He looked up to see a familiar scowling face, and then the window creaked open.

“Seth? Roman’s not here, he’s out with that girl he’s seeing.”

Seth ignored him and kept climbing in the window. “What are you doing,” he said to Dean. “Is that my Livejournal?”

“Aha!” Dean said. “Also, what the fuck, strange man who just climbed into my bed?”

“I have something for you,” Seth said. He dumped a brown-paper wrapped package on the bed and then stood up.

“It’s not my birthday. Is it your birthday?”

“No, dumbass, just fucking unwrap it. And don’t cut yourself.”

Dean picked up the long, heavy object and picked at the tape on the end. He tried to get the piece of tape completely loose so he could unwind the paper in one long strip, and as he fiddled with it, Seth fidgeted impatiently.

“Jesus, if you want to open it so bad, here.” Dean thrust the package at Seth, who shoved it back.

“I can’t...I shouldn’t touch it. It’s for you.”

“Why are you giving me gifts you can’t touch?”

“Because you’re a puny human who won’t stop running with wolves!” Seth snapped.

“Both literally and figuratively,” Dean said with a grin.

“Shut up, Dean! And stop reading my Livejournal!” Seth tried to storm back out the window but he had to climb over Dean to do it, and he ended up just sitting down on the other side of the bed.

“That could have gone better. I’d rate that like a two on a scale of one to extremely dramatic exit.”

“What would a one look like?” Seth asked against his better judgement.

“Probably falling out the window.” Dean got some of the paper off the object. “Oh, cool, a bat, but you know I play lacrosse, right?” Dean asked.

“You barely play lacrosse,” Seth said, folding his arms.

“Like you’re so much better,” Dean said.

“If you’re reading my old fucking livejournal, you can probably find that out.”

“Why is it wrapped in barbed wire?” Dean said, pulling the whole thing out of the wrapping. “And there are...nails in it?”

“The nails are iron. The bat is mountain ash. The barbed wire is just...sharp.”

Dean stood up and gave the bat a few practice swings, until he knocked over a half-drunk Big Gulp from his desk. Seth caught it out of the air with his superhuman reflexes.

“This isn’t an indoor toy, Dean,” Seth scowled.

“That’s what my dad always said about Nerf guns. And the Slip N Slide. And...a lot of things.”

Seth rolled his eyes and rubbed at his beard with the back of his hand. “You could practice at the preserve...”

“What did you say?” Dean asked. “Are you inviting me over? You totally want to hang out. I get it. I’m naturally magnetic. Do you want to get pizza?”

Seth closed his eyes and shook his head. “I knew this was a bad idea.” He pushed his tongue into his cheek.

“It’s the best idea,” Dean said. “I mean, Roman keeps ditching me for his new girlfriend and Sami has been ignoring my texts and Jimmy and Jey moved and...” He swallowed. “I might be able to squeeze you into my busy calendar, is what I’m saying.”

“Thanks.” Seth cocked an eyebrow.

“What are we going to practice? Can you teach me how to kill a man just by looking at him?”

“Not even werewolves do that, Dean.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“I think you could do it if you tried.”

Seth rolled his eyes.

“See! That. You could weaponize that.”

“This is serious, Dean! I just want to make sure you can protect yourself if the time comes.”

“ _ When _ the time comes.”

“Just promise not to die, Dean, okay? Please don’t die.”

Dean flopped back down on the bed, suddenly quiet. “Sorry. Can’t do that.” He put the bat down and traced circles into his comforter with his finger.

“Why did I even ask.”

Dean didn’t respond and Seth looked around the room awkwardly. “I should be—”

“It’s just that it would be a lie, you know?” Dean cut back in. “I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep. I mean, I could keel over from an aneurysm or fucking stroke out at any minute, who the fuck knows.”

“You’re a little young for cardiovascular disease,” Seth said.

“Yeah, so was my mom, doesn’t fucking matter.”

Seth shifted on the bed next to Dean, one leg dangling off the edge. Dean looked up and in the light of the half-moon, Seth looked young, and he looked scared. Maybe something else. Maybe lonely.

Dean opened his mouth to say something else but this time Seth cut him off. “I should go. Bring Roman by this weekend, okay? I have something to give him too.” With that, Seth was gone, slipping out of the window before Dean could say it wasn’t Roman’s birthday this weekend either.

***

“Why did you tell Dean about the Rumble?” Seth asked Roman, shoving him up against a tree.

Roman roared and bared his fangs, pushing Seth back. “I tell Dean everything,” he said.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Seth spat.

“Hey you guys, who’s going to pitch for me?” Dean called from down the trail.

Seth winced, pinching the skin between his eyes with his fingers. “No human has ever won the Rumble,” he said. “A few have entered. Only one survived.”

“Well, does he listen to you any better than he listens to me?” Roman asked, taking a swing at Seth.

“No, goddammit!” Seth swore. “Why doesn’t he listen? He’s going to get hurt and it’s—”

“It’s my fucking fault,” Seth and Roman said at the same time, then caught each other’s eye.

Dean cleared his throat, right behind them. “Some werewolf senses.”

“Dean, it’s not—”

“Is this what it’s all about? Puny human Dean Ambrose won’t listen to the all powerful werewolves. Not like you two listen to each other, ever, or anything. Of course not. This town isn’t big enough for both of your fucking egos.” He shouldered his bat and kicked at the dirt. “I thought I was part of the pack.”

“You are! Deano—” Roman started.

“Don’t call me that!” Dean screamed, his voice breaking.

“You’re acting like fucking children,” Seth said, shaking his head. “I thought I could help. Maybe not. Fine! Enter the rumble! You’re on your fucking own!” He turned and shifted to run off into the deep woods.

Roman turned to Dean, his eyes brimming.

“No, Roman. Not now,” Dean said.

“You’re my bro—”

“Don’t say it.”

Dean turned and walked away in the direction he had parked his Jeep.

“See you at the Rumble,” he said over his shoulder.

***

“Entering at number 1,” the sidhe announced, “is...Roman Reigns, of Beacon Hills!”

“Fuck,” Seth swore from where he crouched behind a protective line of ash and runes keeping the rest of the competitors from rushing the ring.

Flutes and drums piped up as Roman walked down the pathway to the ring, setting his jaw, standing up straight, and for once looking older than his years. He stepped through the ropes and looked out at the crowd, defiant.

“And his opponent,” the fey announcer continued. “The Celtic Warrior!”

A massive frothing redcap with a Mohawk and an axe ran down the ramp.

The fight was on.

***

“What’d I miss?” A familiar voice piped up from behind Seth.

“Dean!” Seth turned. Dean was there, grinning defiantly, his bat shouldered. The other competitors looked at him skeptically, murmuring among themselves. One wizened old crone peered at Dean through a stone with a hole in it, and her eyebrows shot up. She backed away from him to hug the stone wall of the cave enclosure.

“Where’s Ro?”

“That teenage werewolf? Most of him’s over there,” a lumbering hulk next to them said, gesturing to the ring.

Seth winced as Dean ran up to the edge of the enclosure, looking out into the melee.

“Is that...” Dean said, the back of his hand flying up to his mouth.

“The second guy had an axe, and the fifth guy had a sword. He’s still in, though, he rolled under the ropes.”

Roman’s left arm lay to one side of them, and Roman lay to the other, clutching a bloody stump and shivering.

“How could you let this happen!” Dean yelled, grabbing Seth and shaking him.

“My number’s not up, I couldn’t—look! I can’t leave until they let me out! God, Dean, why are you here?”

“You know why,” Dean snarled.

“Entering at number twenty-one...Seth Rollins!”

A black-clad fey grabbed Seth roughly by the arm and threw him toward the ramp. “Go on, then,” the bouncer said.

Seth steeled himself and as he ran down toward the ring, he shifted, his back arching with the change, his claws and fangs coming out. He roared and charged the nearest guy he saw, hitting him with forearm strikes and kicks until he went down.

“Over the ropes!” Dean shouted. “Quit fucking around, get in there!”

Seth spared a quick look back at the pen of entrants and at Dean, and then he ran, jumping over the ropes and into the ring. He didn’t look back.

***

A fat satyr and a bespectacled troll sat at an ornately engraved table to the side of the ring, wearing elaborately embroidered robes and commenting on the action. They were very specific. It was making Dean nauseous hearing them describe the injuries the combatants were inflicting on each other.

The pen emptied, slowly, as names were pulled out of a mystical orb that looked suspiciously to Dean like a goldfish bowl. He was never very good at waiting under normal circumstances, and now he was trapped behind a magical barrier while his best friend tried to fight off demons and fairies one-handed. Even with Seth’s help, things were getting worse by the minute. Roman was leaving a trail of black blood wherever he went. They could sew that arm back on, right? There had to be a spell for that. Dean tried not to retch.

After number twenty seven was called, there were a few rapid eliminations. The selkie got thrown over the top ropes and left in a huff, and the troll split his head open on the ground and didn’t get up. Death was another way to be eliminated.

Seth was caught outside the ring exchanging blows with a pair of twin pwcas.

Twenty eight. Twenty nine. The redcap was still in it, and he went into a spinning berserker attack with his stupid axe.

“Number thirty, Dean Ambrose!” The barrier finally dissolved, all entrants thrown into the mix, but before Dean could run in, there was a sickening sound of flesh and bone being split apart.

Dean staggered to a stop on the ramp as Roman’s severed head landed in front of him.

He saw red. Then he saw white. Then everything went black. And then his systems came back online, and he ran, choking up on his bat.

Dean threw himself directly in the path of the charging beast, setting his bat against the charge. The beast ran straight into the iron nails and slammed Dean into the turnbuckle rattling his teeth, but all it took was planting his feet and twisting his hips to redirect the momentum of the beast over the top ropes. As the monster tumbled to the hard ground, the satyr shouted: “Dean Ambrose has his first elimination!”

Dean blinked to focus his eyes, to get rid of the image of Roman’s lifeless ones. He had to win. If he won, he got his heart’s desire. He got one wish. They’d just have to save Beacon Hills some other way because he was going to wish Roman back to life if it was the last thing he did.

“Dean!” Seth shouted. “Look out!”

A blurry black and white shape was moving fast somewhere to Dean’s left, and he got out of the way before whatever that thing was could even touch him. He rolled under the bottom ropes and ran to Seth, bashing a giant humanoid rat with his bat on the way there.

“Get back in the ring,” Seth spat as now they each traded blows with the twins. Dean reared back and swung, getting a grazing blow in on the pwcas. They retreated back as the iron nails scratched them, smoke rising from the scratches.

“You first,” Dean grinned with malice.

Then there were eleven, then ten, then nine. Seth hit both twins with a double clothesline and sent them over the top rope.

“THE WORLD BELONGS TO ME,” a grotesque half-shark creature roared. He grappled with Seth against the corner turnbuckle and Seth felt the bones of his wrist snapping in his grasp. He couldn’t hang on any longer without his arm being torn off.

“Back off, Bruce!” Dean yelled, swinging the bat in a curved upward arc and hitting the shark square in the groin. He let go of Seth and fell to his skinny knees.

“Sharkman’s got nards,” the satyr announcer drawled.

“Rokea’s down but not out from the blow of the newcomer, Dean Ambrose,” the troll announcer said.

Seth felt his bones snap back into place.

It was a leprechaun with a low center of gravity that ended up eliminating Seth, knocking him off his balance on the top turnbuckle and onto the ground. The twins eliminated the leprechaun and then Dean eliminated the twins.

And then there were two: Dean and Rokea, though he kept calling him Bruce because it made him mad. Dean tried to focus on him, to not look outside the ring, to not see the bodies.

They traded blows, Dean swinging his bat with all his might and the shark man weaving, dodging, snapping.

“We’re gonna need a bigger boat!” Dean quipped before taking a hard kick to the head and feeling something heavy and sharp close on his shoulder and pick him up. Dean felt his body tear and he tried to hang on.

The shark man wouldn’t let go. He sank his teeth harder into Dean’s shoulder, blood pouring from the wound, and he thrashed, shaking Dean like a rag doll. The bat fell to the canvas of the ring and rolled out, clattering to the bare earth.

Seth was held back by the referees, trying to fight his way back to the ring to save Dean.

“NO!” Seth screamed. “He’s just a kid, let him go!”

A pool of blood was forming around Rokea’s feet. He spun Dean’s limp body around and ran back, bouncing off the ropes and preparing to launch Dean over them, forward into the crowd of onlookers at this rate.

Seth looked at Dean, and just then, Dean’s head snapped up. Seth almost thought he saw him wink.

The shark man ran at the ropes and as he hit them, Dean sprang to life and grabbed onto them with all his strength while Rokea was still clamped down on his shoulder. They flipped together, the momentum tumbling the shark over. Dean’s undamaged arm clung to the ropes and he got a knee over, and the shark fell to the ground, taking an even larger chunk of Dean’s flesh with him.

“That’s it!” The satyr shouted. “We’ve got a winner!”

“If he survives to be crowned,” the other announcer said.

The Hunter stepped out from behind a black velvet curtain. The crowd grew silent.

The guards released Seth and he ran to the ring, jumping up and gathering Dean into his arms, slipping in the puddle of blood and gore, pressing a sweaty tee shirt into his gaping wound, trying to stop the bleeding, stabilize him, something.

Dean’s breath was coming shallowly now. His skin was clammy and pale. Seth leaned over him, his hair curtaining their faces.

“How do you like my solution,” Dean croaked. Seth held him close.

“Goddammit, Dean,” Seth said. “You can’t fucking die on me, not both of you, fucking Christ.” He was so close his lips brushed Dean’s cheek, his ear, cold sweat mingling with blood.

Dean tried to shift, rolling in Seth’s grasp, but as he clenched his muscles more blood poured out of the wound.

Seth gulped. “Dean, I have to. I mean. Please let me, please let me give it to you. I’m so sorry.”

“Get him up!” Shouted the Hunter. “The winner has to stand to be crowned.”

“Do it,” Dean said. And as Dean’s head flopped back, no strength left in his body, Seth sank his fangs into the flesh of his neck, away from where Rokea had mauled him, one perfect round bite, puncturing skin that had already been abused too much.

The referees pulled Seth off of Dean, pulled Dean’s body up. Seth’s stomach lurched. Was it too late? Dean was limp, Dean was still bleeding, Dean was...looking back at him. Dean was standing. Dean cracked his neck and shook off the guys who were trying to get him to his feet.

He threw his head back and howled, fangs descending, his brow ridged. Seth howled too, in grief, in triumph.

The Hunter raised Dean’s hand and there was a mix of boos and cheers from the extremely mixed audience. Dean snatched his hand away.

“Where’s my boon. Where’s my fucking boon, Hunter.”

Inscrutable, the Hunter reached into his robes and pulled out a golden box. He held it out to Dean, opening it.

“I want Roman back!” Dean screamed, feral. “I just wanted everything to be okay and nothing was okay! Bring him back, put his head back on his fucking shoulders, put his soul back in his body, bring him back to life you sick son of a bitch!”

A curl of green mist came up out of the box, curling around Dean like a caress, snaking around him and then like an arc of lightning jumping to Seth, running down his arm and then jumping once more to Roman’s lifeless body, to his severed arm, to his severed head. There was a blinding flash of light and then a moment of darkness.

The lights came back on. Roman was standing in the ring right behind Dean.

The Hunter stepped back. He dropped the box. He smiled. “Of course, now that you three have accepted a gift from the fey...you’ll never leave.”

“Uh, like fuck!” Dean shouted, his fangs feeling strange in his mouth.

Roman stepped closer and Seth flipped back up into the ring. The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down the Hunter. Like a pack.

The referees tried to intervene but the other competitors that were still alive overtook them. The crowd roared.

Roman charged the berobed fey, shoulder tackling him out of the ring. They chased him, backing him all the way to the ornate table where the announcers had sat.

The three of them picked up the Hunter, Roman in the middle, Seth and Dean on the sides. They slammed him down, breaking the table, and he didn’t get up.

Seth reached into the fey’s robes and pulled out a golden key. Dean picked up his bat.

“How can you even touch that thing?” Seth asked.

“I taped the handle,” Dean shrugged. He felt himself shrinking a little, fitting back into his skin, claws retreating.

Roman growled, not forming any words. They both turned to him. His eyes were red-rimmed, and despite being whole, they could see a thin scar at his neck and across his arm. He wasn’t getting out of this unmarked.

“How are we going to explain that to your mom,” Dean said, running the back of a finger over Roman’s neck.

“Let’s go before he comes to,” Seth said.

They returned to the door where they had entered. It unlocked with the key. As they stepped through, they were once again in the forests of the Beacon Hills nature preserve. The sun was shining. There were birds singing and the woods creaked and popped around them. It was still Sunday.

They looked at each other.

“We’re a mess,” Seth said.

“You’re a werewolf,” Roman said.

“You can talk!” Dean said. “God, I was worried. You totally died!”

“How many times is that now?” Roman asked.

“I’ve lost track,” Dean said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and coming away with a massive smear of crusty dried blood. “How much of this do you think is mine?”

Seth shook his head wide-eyed. “I didn’t know a human had that much blood inside them.”

“I’m above average.” Dean managed to smile.

“How are we going to stop the Alpha pack now?” Roman sighed.

“Have we tried the power of friendship?” Dean asked flatly.

Seth snorted.

“You got any better ideas? This one just got me turned into a fucking werewolf.” Dean shoved Seth, finding it suddenly easier to knock him off his feet.

“I’m sorry for saving your life,” Seth said.

“So whose pack are you in now?” Roman asked. “I always thought I was gonna be your alpha…” He hung his head and rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the ropy scar.

“Whoa there big dog, he’s my—”

“It’s one pack,” Dean said firmly, cutting Seth off.

Seth and Roman’s eyes flashed red. Dean glared back at them with bright amber.

“This isn’t a teen drama. We stick together or we die alone.”

They all regarded each other with caution.

“And we get matching tee shirts,” Dean went on. “And signature moves and colors, kind of like the Power Rangers? And we need a headquarters and—”

It was Roman’s turn to cut him off, pulling him into a tight hug that muffled his mouth at the same time.

Seth got up. He put a hand on Dean’s back.

Dean shook off Roman’s grip and pulled Seth into the huddle. He accepted the hug. It was awkward at first, but so was everything, and Dean was nothing if not adaptable. 

 


End file.
